color lizards purple and neon green, and we eat strawberry yogurt right out of the container when we hurt.”
Chapter Seven
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Sophie’s eyes popped open. “My poor Em,” she sighed. “I’m not sure I’m smart enough to help her through this, but I’ll do my best.”
She went to the bathroom, washed her face in cold water, and then headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. While the coffee brewed, she went out to the porch and stared at the painting she’d been working on. No wonder Emma couldn’t paint. She had related that last work she’d done with the horrible experience.
“Nothing smells better than coffee in the morning.” Emma yawned as she made her way into the kitchen. “Do you still know how to French braid?”
“Of course, but I still can’t braid my own hair. You want to do it for me?” Sophie stepped inside the trailer. “How are you holding up?”
“I was afraid to go to sleep last night,” Emma answered. “I finally got up and went out on the porch. I told myself that those stars up there were the same ones that were shining the night all that happened, and they’d gone right on living, so I could, too. I’m not sure if knowing what happened is any better than not knowing. Then Coco showed up and followed me into the house. She curled up beside me, and then I slept like a baby.”
“We should get a cat when we go back to Dallas,” Sophie said.
“I’m not ready to go back, Sophie. This is where I’m figuring out things. I don’t even know why, but I love it here—all of it. The trailer, the cat, the people, and maybe someday, if I stay long enough, I’ll even love myself.” Emma waved her arms to take in the trailer and everything that made up Hummingbird Lane. She crossed the living room and opened the refrigerator door. She took out the milk and made herself a bowl of cereal, shaking the box in Sophie’s direction as if to offer.
How could Emma think about food at a time like this? Sophie’s heart was breaking again for her friend, and yet she understood so well that comment about maybe someday even loving herself.
“I’m not hungry right now. I’ll eat later. You want to talk some more about things?” Sophie asked.
“No, I want to put it away for a while. If I keep reliving it every hour of every day, I’ll never be able to move on,” Emma said.
“So, you want French braids this morning?” Sophie changed the subject.
“I’ll do yours if you’ll do mine. With all these layers, it’s hard to keep it up and off my neck.” She sat down on one of the two barstools.
Sophie brought rubber bands from the cabinet drawer and then pointed at the calendar. “We’re celebrating Easter today. We celebrate everything here. Cinco de Mayo. July Fourth. We’ve been known to even celebrate things like National Ice Cream Day, and sometimes, like now, we don’t celebrate it on the day that it really is.”
Emma giggled and then stopped abruptly and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “That felt strange. I can’t remember the last time I felt like laughing. But why are you celebrating Easter when it’s already over with?”
“The folks here always wait until I’m here to celebrate Easter because they know how much I love it, and Filly likes to buy the little plastic eggs when they go on sale after the holiday. And when you laughed, it reminded me of when we were kids.”
Emma pointed to the mirror. “I love the idea of not sticking to a strict schedule. It’s so artisty. But look at me, Sophie. Do I look like I’m about to go to church services? Mama would stroke out if she could see me, especially when I wear my flower-child clothes.”
Sophie shook her head slowly and then laughed out loud. “I should snap a picture of you when I get your hair braided and send it to her.”
Emma dug into her chocolate-flavored cereal. “She would drop dead if she saw me like this, and I’d have to wear one of my long skirts to the funeral.”
“Then she’d raise up out of that casket and give you a lecture,” Sophie said.
“Yep, she would, but thinking of Easter Sunday, it seems fitting that I figured out things last night, doesn’t it?” Emma shuddered at the picture of her mother